Funny, scary, and intense, Brett Morgen’s documentary
Chicago 10 chronicles the riots that overwhelmed Chicago during
the 1968 Democratic National Convention, along with their ominous
preludes and astonishing repercussions.
“I just didn’t want to see another fuckin’ ’60s film with the same
treatment—the same sort of nostalgia and romantic view,” the
39-year-old Morgen tells me from his office in Rockaway Beach, New
York. “What I was ultimately trying to do was tell a story that was
kind of timeless. Because it is. The trail of the Chicago Seven is
almost Shakespearean in nature. This is an epic story: There’s a war
going on, there’s an opposition to the war, there’s a government trying
to silence the opposition.”
Long story short: In ’68, the newly formed Yippies, under the
leadership of Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin, introduced a far more
radical and theatrical take on political action than the hippies ever
possessed. But the Yippies were merely one element in what now seems to
have been a perfect storm—American casualties in Vietnam were
rising; the My Lai massacre eroded even the most stalwart support of
the war; Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy were
assassinated; Nixon clinched the Republican presidential nomination. A
breaking point was inevitable. Welcome to Chicago: Yippies, en masse,
defied Mayor Richard J. Daley’s orders, camping out in a public park
and aiming to cause havoc at the Democratic convention. Daley fought
back. Shit hit the fan.
“There were a lot of quote-unquote ‘watershed moments’ in the 1960s,
but the events outside the convention in 1968 and the ensuing trial of
the Chicago Seven was really one of the great spectacles of that era,”
Morgen says. “And I wanted to bring it to life in an equally dynamic
and theatrical way.” How he’s done that is part of what makes
Chicago 10 so revelatory. The film combines archival footage
from the riots with animated sequences based on the transcripts of the
chaotic trial that followed, in which key participants were prosecuted
for their actions. (The voice cast for the film’s animated sequences
includes Hank Azaria, Mark Ruffalo, Jeffrey Wright, Nick Nolte, and Roy
Scheider.)
Initially, it’s a weird juxtaposition: The vibrant, shaky archival
footage sharply contrasts with the stylized recreation of the
circus-like trial. But together, the two halves make an exhilarating,
engrossing experience. “To me, it’s the antithesis of a talking-head
film, which are really all about context and memory and reflection,”
Morgen says, “as opposed to allowing an audience to experience
something in a more immediate, visceral way.”
Another way the gleefully subjective Chicago 10 sets itself
apart is its soundtrack. A simmering mess of angry, anachronistic rock
and hiphop, it assigns protest song duties to Black Sabbath and Eminem
instead of Phil Ochs. The result is weirdly authentic. “When the
protest music of the 1960s is used to sell Volkswagens, it no longer
has the same angst that it had, or the same sort of passion,” Morgen
says. “I think that after Chicago, pop music became a lot darker. [In
1968], I didn’t feel there was music that would capture the energy of
the moment the way that, let’s say, the Beastie Boys or Rage Against
the Machine did.”
At one point, the effortlessly charismatic Hoffman brags to his
followers: “Our role in the court is to destroy its authority, and the
next generation will come along and destroy its power.” His statement
sums up the enormous optimism of the moment, but also reminds today’s
audience of how little has changed. Indeed, Chicago 10 milks
much of its power from the inevitable clash of two familiar ideologies.
Representing one side, Chicago’s finest stand ready to defend the
status quo, suited up with helmets, rifles, tear gas, and tanks;
representing another, stubborn protesters practice self-defense
techniques while their pal Allen Ginsberg goofily chants. Regardless of
which side they’re on, you can see it in all of their eyes: The
breaking point is approaching. Forty years later, it’s impossible not
to ask what changed during those few frightening, brutal days in
Chicago. Maybe everything. Maybe nothing.
